Reluctant Hearts | Harry Styles

Chapter 11

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Leaving the restaurant behind, I stepped out into the cool night air, a mixture of exhaustion and lingering emotions weighing heavily on my shoulders. A part of me yearned for the comfort of my home, to retreat beneath the safety of my covers and escape the clutches of the day. But something pulled me in a different direction—a nearby bar, its neon lights casting a seductive glow onto the darkened streets.

In a moment of spontaneous rebellion, I decided to succumb to the allure of the dimly lit establishment. The scent of alcohol and laughter enveloped me as I stepped inside, the noise of chatter and clinking glasses becoming a balm for my frayed nerves. I found solace at the bar, perched on a stool, seeking respite from the chaos that had consumed my mind.

With a quick glance around, I caught the bartender's attention and ordered a drink—a momentary escape from the reality that plagued me. The glass was placed before me, its contents shimmering like liquid gold. I took a sip, the familiar burn providing a temporary reprieve from the stress of the day.

As the minutes passed and the drinks flowed, a numbness began to settle within me—a disconnect from the swirling vortex of emotions that threatened to consume me earlier. Each glass served as a catalyst, blurring the edges of my thoughts and softening the sting of Riley's words.

But even amidst the haze, his presence haunted me, like a ghost from my past refusing to be exorcized. The alcohol-induced numbness could not fully shield me from the memories of his condescension and the pain he inflicted. The more I drank, the more his image distorted, merging with fragments of anger, sadness, and confusion.

Snippets of conversations drifted around me, laughter intertwining with the clinking of glasses. But they remained distant echoes, drowned out by the chaotic symphony within my own mind. My thoughts tumbled and collided, lost in a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions.

As I sat at the bar, lost in my own labyrinth of emotions, a group of rowdy individuals entered the establishment. Laughter and cheers filled the air, drawing my attention to their presence. Among them, a man stood out—a ruggedly handsome figure with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry.

The air grew thicker, swirling with the haze of alcohol-induced muddled thinking. My mind teetered on the edge of coherence, thoughts slipping through my grasp like grains of sand. I was lost in the tumultuous sea of emotions, unsure of what I truly wanted or how I felt.

Harry's eyes locked onto me, a flicker of confusion dancing within his gaze. He approached, ready to unleash his usual snarky comments, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface. "Muffin!" He leaned against the bar facing me with a smug grin, "What? You have no other friends than Melissa that you resort to drinking alone since she's busy fucking my best friend?" He quipped. His normal snide remarks tended to get under my skin, but right now, it aided as a distraction.

I shielded my face away from him, not ready to have him unmask my sorrows. I forced a half-hearted chuckle, my response lacking the usual sharpness. "Oh, Harry, don't you know? Quality over quantity. Plus alcohol is the only friend who never judges."

He sipped his drink that he'd gotten - when? I don't know, everything had been so blurry - a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Care to share what's got you in such a delightful mood?"

"Just some bullshit I can never seem to escape from'' I slurred blankly, voice trembling as I drowned another shot, leaving a tightening grip on the glass.

His playful facade crumbled, replaced by a glimmer of concern. He leaned closer, his voice softer, laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. "Ev, you're not yourself tonight. What's going on?"